Destiny: Out of the Wild
by Thebruceuk
Summary: An original story from the world of Destiny, Out of the Wild is not your typical sci-fi space shooter. Taking place in the wasted European Dead Zone, this story follows a young girl at the very beginning of her own Destiny story.
1. One

DESTINY: OUT OF THE WILD

a novella by J. A. Parry-Bruce

\- ZERO -

Gammer told me it's called a 'deer'. It's big; wild; antlers as long as my leg. I can see it clearly through the scope on the ancient rifle. Its hide is a rich, deep, reddy-brown colour. I want to stroke it. My bracers are made of deer skin - they're warm and tough and Gammer showed me how to carve strong runes and powerful wards in them to protect me.

It's my third time Overground. The first time, I came with Mama. We were out here for an hour, maybe, just looking at all the life. It's dead in the Underground. Safe, but dead. I saw a bird. The trees are all around you, vines and creepers have crawled their way up the buildings but you can still see their windows, shining in the moonlight; glassy, like a corpse's eyes.

The second time I came with Bejay. He let me hold the rifle. There were no bullets in it but I aimed it, down the sights, like he showed me in the old tunnels and pulled the trigger once or twice. He pointed to a bush and I watched it for a long time. It rustled. There was a flash of red fur. A fox, he told me. I pointed the rifle, lead the creature a little as it trotted across our path. I didn't know why, then, but it seemed the right thing to do. I pulled the trigger. I know I would have got it. We went back and Gammer drew me a picture of a fox. I put it on my wall.

I breathe slow, now. I feel the fear bubbling in my stomach, threatening to climb up, into my throat, turning to a scream. I shouldn't be out here. It's dangerous. All my life I've been told that and all my life I've wanted to get out, to get up here, to see what's so dangerous, to see why I can't come. I still don't see it. There's no visible danger - no monsters roaming in the night. But I can feel it. There's something terrifying out here and my body tenses on its own, I realise I'm ready to run.

Bejay makes the ready finger-sign at me. Time to see if I can kill. I press my cheek to the cold metal of the rifle, sight down the long scope. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Hold. The deer's flanks quiver and it shakes its head. It is beautiful. I pull the trigger. The deer's life ends.

\- ONE - I -

Later, I play with one of the deer bones. Gammer has carved a single rune in it. It's a thank-sign, she told me, to thank the spirit of the world for giving us its gift of food. I don't know how much of it I believe, anymore, but I press the bone to my chest and whisper my own thanks to the little light near my bed. I feel a strange warmth through my palms, but it passes quickly.

My room is small. A corrugated tin wall separates my room from Gammer's and a slatted door closes it off from the living space. Even through the door I can hear the fire crackling and spitting, can hear Mama and Rico talking in low voices in the living room. I've got some shelves with clothes on them. Blankets. A small box I keep my treasures in. I open the box and put the bone inside, moving a broken purple comb and some red-stained glass beads to make room.

Nearly everyone in our village ate some of the deer. There was a little celebration in the common hall. Bejay played his flute and Simmo strummed his guitar and we danced while the deer cooked. Gammer wept a little; I didn't know why, then. I think I do now. Elder Majio inducted me into the hunter cadre - he said words that I can't remember but seemed full of wisdom and portents at the time. Bejay gave me the bullet casing on a length of twine. I put it over my head and dropped it down the front of my shirt. It sits between my breasts and scratches my skin but I can't take it off. I won't take it off.

There's a knock on the door of our apartment. I hear another voice as Mama opens the door. It's deep and rich, though I can't hear the words. Footsteps. There's a gentle knock on my door - without looking I know it's Mama. "Lycus is here." she whispers.

Lycus. I've heard of Lycus. He's the best hunter in the Underground, so they say. Leader of the cadre. A legend. I stand up and the bullet casing rubs against my skin - makes it chafe. I open the door and see him standing there, his back is to me, he's warming his hands by the fire. Rico looks scared. Lycus is tall but thin. His ragged coat touches the floor in places. There is a long, cruel knife at his hip. Dried blood has spattered the rune-cut sheathe.

"May I come in, girl?" he says over his shoulder. I nod. Though he isn't looking at me he seems to understand. Or he doesn't care. He turns and enters my room. I've left the box open. He reaches in and takes the bone. "Thank-sign." He rubs the rune with his thick thumb. He's wearing old, leather fingerless gloves. They look like they used to be green. His thumbnail is black. He makes a noise in his throat and tosses the bone back into the box. "Good that you know signs." He raises his eyes and glances at me from between the folds of his deep hood. Thick white hair falls around the sides of his face. "Spiritualism is bullshit. The rune's power comes from us, not from old ghosts. But knowing this doesn't diminish it. Good that you know signs." Suddenly, he grabs my hand. He's turning it over. My mouth hangs open: I'm stunned by his speed. He rubs his calloused, dirty fingers across mine. I have blisters at the bottoms of my fingers, at the crook of my thumb. There are cuts on my knuckles and a long graze across the back of my hand. Callouses are forming, some have reopened. He touches them all, one by one, then nods. There's warmth in his touch that isn't just body heat. I sense a smile in the darkness of the hood. "Practice?" he asks.

"Training." I say. There's a grunt that I take as a laugh. He releases my hand and sits on the bed. He pulls down his hood and blinks a few times in the light. He has a thick beard - black shot through with glimmers of white. He's older than Mama but younger than Gammer. His face has more lines than Elder Majio but his eyes are clear and shine in the light from my little lamp. He has an old bruise high on his cheek. A livid scar adds another fold to his forehead.

"You're a hunter now." he says to me. His eyes dart around the room, keep flicking back to look into mine. I am surprised by their intensity every time.

"Just one kill." I say. I'm nervous but breathe slow, trying to calm myself.

"First shot," he grunts, "first kill, I heard. That the way of it?" I nod. "If you can kill you can hunt." The fingers of his right hand gently brush the carved-bone handle of his knife. An old habit? Does he do it for reassurance, maybe? Comfort? I look at the handle. There's a thank-sign on it, the surrounding bone worn almost flush with the carved rune. He sees me looking. "You will come with me."

"What about Bejay?" I ask without thinking. "He can kill."

"Bejay stays. Had his chance." And didn't take it, I think.

There's a long pause. I don't know what to say. "When?" I ask, finally, though I already know the answer.

"Now."

\- ONE - II -

Mama cried. I cried a little. Rico gave me a stone with power-sign painted on it - I have it in my pocket. Gammer pressed a tightly wrapped parcel into my hand, something hard inside, and whispered into my ear, "I've been keeping this for you. It was your father's." I felt wetness on her cheek transferred to mine. "Hunt." she had rasped, "kill. There is honour in this. The spirits will guide you and keep you safe but you must find strength for yourself." I haven't opened the packet.

Lycus had returned to the Overground with the small band of hunters who had accompanied him on the trip to our Underground village. He had told me to gather what things I needed. Needed - he had stressed the word - not wanted. I packed clothes in a sack - trousers, shirts, gloves, a warm, hide tunic. I dressed for the cold in thick trousers; pulled another shirt on, buckled my strong belt and pouches around my waist, threw on a patterned waistcoat that was easily the prettiest thing I owned and picked up my jacket. At the door to my room I turned and looked back. The box was still open. I took out the bone and closed the lid.

Mama was waiting in the living area, standing with her back to the fire and a large bundle in her hands. Tears streaked clean lines down her cheeks, made her skin gleam. She held out the thing to me and I took it, unfolded it. A long coat that I remembered as being my father's. It is made of leather. Dark green; patched, weathered, beaten and well looked after. Mama must have waxed it regularly, even after… It has a woolen lining - warm and comfortable - and many little pockets and pouches, some hidden, all useful. There's a hood, deep like Lycus', with thongs to tie it down and buckled straps to adjust its depth. It has padded cuffs that can be tightened around the wrist. If you look closely you'll see hundreds of overlapping runes - their power strengthened in strange and mysterious ways as they come into contact with one another. It's a secret language and I know much of it without knowing how I know. It's instinctive. Intuitive. On the inside collar, where the coat rests against my neck, there is a potent ward - two runes in symmetry, their edges overlapping, one a protection and the other a banishment. The ward feels warm, like sunlight.

I close my eyes and see my father standing in the doorway of our little house, wearing the coat. He's got a long rifle over his shoulder. He's smiling at me and Mama. She's holding me in her arms, I'm so small. Even then, I knew I'd never see him again.

I took the coat, put it on. Mama cried again. "You're so like him." She said. I cried again. I put the bone in a pocket near my breast.


	2. Two

DESTINY: OUT OF THE WILD

a novella by J. A. Parry-Bruce

\- TWO - I -

Lycus' bondsman, Pielo, helps me clamber up over a wide ledge, around the side of a long-empty window frame. I misjudge the footing, grunt and stagger into him. He puts out an arm to steady me, helps me find my feet.

We've climbed the ruined hulk of an ancient building. I'm further away from my little Underground village than I've ever been before. The sun is bleeding light onto the horizon, it will come up soon. Shadows seem to lift up from beneath us, climbing our bodies as we ascend the ruin. The building has crashed into another, is leaning drunkenly against it, almost horizontal.

My weapons are strapped tight to my body so that they don't swing and unbalance me or crash and clatter together to alert our quarry. My first real hunt I'd tied my gear down without thinking, knowing what I was doing but barely understanding why. I saw Lycus watching me. Wondered if I'd done something wrong. Then I saw Pielo doing the same. He'd nodded and smiled. Made me smile, too.

We've spent the last four hours tracking deer. Pielo tells me that we're close. He points down to the treeline below us. The leaves rustle and shake - I can see the tiny movements without the need to use the compact scope tucked away in one of the pockets on my right. My eyes are keener, now. I've only been a hunter for a few, short weeks but, already, I know what I'm looking for.

We scramble silently along an unbroken length of concrete. Pielo is fast but I keep up. When I became a hunter, Lycus gave me a knife, a gun and a pair of moccasins . These boots are an ancient design, he told me, and the hunter's best weapon. I can feel the floor beneath my feet, my toes can grip through the soft leather and they're almost silent, even when running. I have a needle and thread and leather patches in my coat to repair them. Pielo has the same. We all do.

The building ends abruptly here, and we need to clamber down the practically vertical roof to enter it's neighbor. I clutch to narrow fingerholds, find toeholds by feel and carefully descend, following Pielo. Ancient boxes dot the rooftop: flower-like blades behind metal grilles, weird protrusions and smaller boxes, some with switches, inside and out. We move from one to the other until we reach a wide gash in the side of the other building. It's dark. Pielo leads us inside.

\- TWO - II -

We go slower, now. We've gone a few floors down - making our way towards the ground floor, towards the forest and the food. Picking through abandoned offices, collapsed walls and forgotten stairways.

We enter a wide space, broken up with strange, short walls. Pielo makes the finger-sign for quiet. Wait, he signals. I hold my breath and wait, staring ahead, afraid to blink. There: movement. Pielo signs follow me. Carefully we cross the room at an angle, heading towards one of the small partitions in a half-crouch. I think about bringing some of these materials back to the Underground, back to my family. But that's not why I'm here. I shake away the thought, leave that to the scavengers, I tell myself, we're here to hunt.

A sound. Snuffling: a nose rummaging in dry leaves. The trees are tall and their detritus has been blown in through the blown-out windows. There could be food in here for our prey, which means food for us. Pielo lifts his chin towards the door on the far side of the partition. There's still some glass in a full-length frame next to the door. It's smoky but there's a shadowy shape moving on the other side, a long neck, twitching ears and the long curves of antlers.

I watch Pielo scan the room, looking for another way through. Opening the door would make the deer bolt. He has a calm, patient face - lean and hard but not marked and aged like Lycus'. His hair is close-cut, short and neat, apart from a thin braid, gathered at the back, that dangles over his right shoulder. He's wearing a short jacket, hunters' gloves and reddy-brown moccasins. His rifle has a three-point strap that binds it close to his back but is easily unbuckled for a quick draw. He has two knives; the largest high on his right thigh, the other strapped to the inside of his left forearm. I like looking at him.

He catches my eye, has he seen me watching him? I begin to blush as he smiles and makes hand-signs: Up, over, down and around. I look up and see a hole where the ceiling has fallen - a broken metal box lies below it. He indicates with finger-sign that we can climb up on the wreckage and he'll boost me through the hole. I won't be able to pull him up, I realise. This is going to be my hunt.

I put my foot into his hands. I can feel their warmth through my moccasins. Something brushes my thigh, I fight off the urge to look down. I stare into the darkness above me and wait for the tap of Pielo's thumb on my ankle. One, two, jump!

I catch the lip of a metal bar, pull myself through the opening, minding the stock of my rifle as I climb into the narrow gap. It's dark. I wait for my eyes to adjust. Eventually I can see ropes of old wire sat in dull, metal trunking. I've seen similar in the Underground - helped Simmo as he fiddled with the electronics to add lights or switches. There is much dust here. A few leaves have blown up into the gap. I mind where I place my hands as I crawl towards where the door should be. The channel branches further ahead, I can see light coming up through grates set into the ceilings below.

At the first grate, I lie down with my face pressed to the metal, stare, unblinking, through it for a sign of the deer. I can't see it - I'm too far across the room - but I can hear it, still stirring the leaves with its snout. It moves, heads closer to me, edging along the wall. I see the its flank. The grate beneath me is held in with a few screws but they're rusty, the holes crumbling and widened. Even if I had the right tool I'd never be able to get them out. I crawl on - passing the deer, I think - and come to a junction. Ahead is another grate. Darkness to my right and, on my left, brighter light - perhaps coming from below: indicating a way down?

I choose left and wriggle past a fat bunch of wires. The light gets brighter. I turn right at the end of the passage and see the hole - not in the floor of the channel, but the wall. The tunnel has been blown through. Metal shavings and deep gouges indicate that something has been pushed out of here - or pulled. I edge closer and look out. I'm in the wall of a large atrium. Maybe two-hundred yards long, half as wide. There must be a three-floor drop beneath me. I twist my head to look up. Another fifteen or so above. The ribs of an empty skylight cut up the sky into rectangles. I see wisps of cloud in the blue.

Looking back into the atrium, I see banners hanging at intervals down the length of the huge space. Shining anchors bored into the walls level with me. Across the atrium I see a banner dangling limply - gently swinging in the breeze blowing in through the gaping entrance at the far end of the building. The anchor on my side must have been torn from the wall somehow. Took part of the tunnel with it. There's a metal rail running around the space, darkened lights hanging from it. Balconies jut out just above it. The rail can't be too far above me. I edge further out of the hole, wriggling onto my back. I raise my hands up, brush the wall above me for finger-holds. Gingerly move to a sitting position as my chest clears the hole. I'm pressing my toes into the walls of the tunnel, my thighs strain to hold me in. The rail is just out of reach. I inch back, and push my hands as far up as they'll go. I'm so close. I dig my toes into the walls of the tunnel and shove out, slap my hands into the railing as I jerk my chest forwards. I've got it.

Wriggling my legs out of the hole, I plant my soles on the wall and start to edge to the left, towards the nearest balcony. The balconies have slender metal railings to stop people from falling. It's easy to grab hold of them and pull myself over. I rest for a moment, taking long, deep breaths and letting them out slowly. My heart is racing, pain throbs dully in my hip. The hole is about five metres away and I'm a floor up from where I should be. There's a stairwell behind a cracked glass wall. There's a picture on the glass, a stylized family on top of a hill, writing above the logo says 'Genesynch'. I head to the stairs.

\- TWO - III -

At the bottom of the stairwell a small pool of water has gathered - safe from the sun in the shade of the floor above. There are leaves, too, and scat. I move forwards, picking my way carefully to avoid dry leaves. I hear the noise of the deer: faint, still, but closer. There, I see it. The rifle swings easily into my hands as I loosen the safety binding with a sharp tug. It's an old rifle but it's clean and it fires true. I've added to the runes carved on the stock - a power-sign and a copy of my father's ward. I can feel the fresh sharpness of the ward, it stands out in stark contrast amongst the skin-smoothed runes of the rifle's previous owners.

I sink down and move slower, the rifle steady in my hands. There's a round in the chamber but the safety is still on. I slowly disengage it. Oil and filing has smoothed the lever and the click is barely audible, even to me. Still, I imagine the deer's ears twitching back to find the alien sound and stop in my tracks. There's a rustling sound. It's coming closer.

I edge to the corner of the room. The door is open and I see the frosted glass, behind which Pielo will be listening, straining for any clue as to my progress. I see a rich, brown ear as I clear the doorway, head and neck follow, then the curve of a shoulder. I hold my breath and raise the rifle. The deer is close enough to hip-fire but that's not how I've been trained. I look down the scope and straight into the eye of the deer. It sees me. I fire.

The shot is incredibly loud in this enclosed space. My ears ring with it and I don't hear Pielo opening the door. He swiftly crosses to the deer and examines my handiwork. 'Good kill.' His voice is muffled and I barely hear the words.

'Thanks' I feel my voice in my throat, the vibrations in my head make my ears ring again.

'Let's get this-' Pielo is cut off by a horrible sound - a bitter scream that's like nothing I've ever heard. We freeze.

My body is shaking with adrenaline and I feel slightly numb. The ringing has subsided and I hear a rumbling, slapping sound - feet on hard floors - and the chattering of strange voices. Pielo finger-signs down and I drop to the floor. The voices sound as though they're in the huge hall. They echo off the atrium walls. I have no idea what they're saying. They make guttural, unnatural sounds and vicious barking noises, but it sounds like words. Pielo finger-signs, where? I hand-sign back, indicating the stairs, trying to give the sense of the balcony and the atrium. We move to the stairs, crawl up them on our bellies. Pielo leads, staying low. We peep through the railings and I gasp - unable to catch the sound before it's made.

The things below us move like we do. They walk on two legs, carry vicious-looking weapons with two arms. But they definitely aren't human. There are four of them, moving like spiders across the open space. They skirt around broken benches and turned-over tables. One of the creatures approaches a huge black obelisk. It's twice as wide as it is tall, stands darkly to one side of the room. Benches arranged in concentric semi-circles around it. The thing drags a clawed hand across the smooth surface and grunts, loudly. They call to one another as they advance. Bark out queries and orders. They swing their weapons from side to side, sweeping the atrium. Searching for us, I'm sure: they must have heard my shot - that's what brought them here.

As I watch, another appears, strides confidently through the glassless lattice of frames at the far end of the hall. It's wearing something like armour. It carries a large gun. It has a strangely shaped head and - it can't be - four arms! It points with the lower arms while cradling its weapon, hisses and barks orders to the other four. I can't move. I glance across at Pielo - he's watching, his face totally blank. Beneath us, the two-arms close up around the four-arm and they begin advancing down the atrium together. Heading for a staircase nearly opposite us.

I gasp again as something grips my arm. It's Pielo. He motions for me to follow him but, as I begin moving, I look down. One of the two-arms is looking straight up at the balcony, he mutters something and points. Pielo pulls me upright and we run, the creatures shout and dart towards the stairs. Shots ring out, blue light flashes. They're two floors below but they're fast. I hear them pounding up the stairs behind us as Pielo and I dart into a large room.

One day, I'd like to go back to this room. Glass cabinets line the walls. Treasures hundreds of years old sit within. Plates and cups and ornaments. What look like old weapons or toys or something. On one wall, there is a picture: hundreds of men and women around a huge sphere. Like those old stories Gammer told. It seems happy. In the middle of the room is an enormous table, made entirely out of wood. There are wooden chairs, too. Some lie on their backs; one has a broken leg. The window at the rear of the room stretches all the way across it. Almost all of its glass remains, save for a single panel to my far right. The light makes everything glow. It is a beautiful room.

Pielo dashes behind the table, pulls me with him. No time even to breathe. We pull out our rifles and take aim over the table. I have three rounds left in the blocky magazine. Pielo's gun is larger than mine, but is bolt-action. He inserts a round into the chamber and, before I can blink, fires at the first strange head to appear around the side of the door. Time seems to slow around me. I push the fear aside and grip my rifle tightly.

Another creature emerges, following the first. My sweat-slicked fingers slip and my shot hits mid-chest. The creature staggers but stays upright. Pielo has loaded his rifle faster than I can believe and shoots again. A dart of blue fire zips past us, I hear it shatter the window. One creature is in the room, now, two lie dead on the floor. The fourth stays low and charges.

Pielo has fired again before I can take aim. Another creature falls. I raise my rifle as the four-arm lurches into the room. The remaining two-arm drops back but my shot catches it in the shoulder and it spins. Pielo's next shot takes the four-arm in the chest but does nothing - it doesn't even falter. I sight down my rifle, line up squarely with the armoured head of the four-arm. I know Pielo is doing the same.

We fire. Pielo's round hits first. Mine follows it in. The four-arm shrieks, strange fluid has exploded from its face - I think I see bone and sinew beneath the armour. I aim into the bloody gap and pull the trigger. A click. I'm out.

I drop the magazine, note where it fell to retrieve it later. My hand gropes for my reserve but I don't catch it the first time. The four-arm comes closer, fires its oversized weapon. Blue streamers whip past us, one strikes the table and explodes. Splinters and super-heated air sting my cheek and there's a horrible smell. Pielo fires again and the four-arm rocks back. More blood spurts from another wound. I slap the magazine into my rifle and swing the barrel up. I don't aim, just pull the trigger. The four-arm's leg snaps and it drops down onto it. Pielo strides forward, puts the barrel of his rifle to the thing's head and roars. The shot sounds like death.

Air rushes into my lungs, burns my throat. The world speeds up again. I can't remember the last time I breathed.

We stand here, bodies heaving and shaking. Carnage and strange blood at our feet. Pielo's rifle still points towards the ground. I hear a slithering sound, watch as the two-arm I winged grabs Pielo. It's raising a crude blade, murder in its eyes. Without thinking I've drawn my long knife. I leap over to Pielo and stab down, screaming the burning air back out of my lungs. I feel the knife slide into the alien skull. It catches on something. I forget to let go as the creature slumps to the side, go down with it in a tangle of limbs and a wash of warm, stinking blood.

Pielo puts his hand out and I take it. I stand looking at him for a moment. The thing managed to score a long cut down his forearm as it fell. I can hear the steady drip of blood on the hard floor. Pielo looks at me. Straight in the eyes. I can't help myself. I throw my arms around him and he pulls me close. I'm sobbing silently. I feel the tears pool in my eyes, threaten to spill down my cheeks. I don't want to cry but I can't stop it.

Pielo strokes my hair and I cry.

\- TWO - IV -

Feels like we've been walking the length of the atrium forever. My hip hurts. Pielo has the deer slung across his shoulders. We scavenged what we could from the corpses. We've got makeshift sacks tied across our backs, full of guns, armour, cloth, strange devices, all looted from the bodies. We've got some trinkets from the room, too. The four-arm's damaged helmet hangs from an improvised hook at my belt. It's heavy and it stinks.

Pielo said we should go and see where they came from. There might be more, but we'd be careful, sneak out and see if they've left anything else. While he talked I searched the four-arm, found something I can't get out of my head. It's a little blunt-ended star with an eye. The eye is dark, like the lights above us. I put it in the pouch at the small of my back, under my coat. It looks dead but I feel its warmth, just like the ward against my neck. Bullshit I hear Lycus say.

Grass has grown up through the wide flagstone steps at the front of the building. The forest is nearby to one side, other buildings line a wide street heading away from it. There are large chunks of fallen masonry all around. Gaping holes in the buildings. Broken glass and twisted metal. Lots of hiding places. We don't see or hear any more of the things. Pielo finger-signs all clear and we move forwards, down the wide steps leading to the street. I can't relax, though. Feel the tension in the back of my neck. Senses strain for the slightest sight or sound. We've left the heavy deer and loot in the doorway of the Genesynch building. The same logo I saw on the glass is mounted above the doors. I wonder what this place was.

Slowly, we sweep the area. I find nothing apart from a bone, dark red matter clinging to it still. My first thought is animal but, after what I've seen, I'm not sure any more. Pielo has moved away from me, into the mouth of a dark alley next to the building. He's close to the ground. I hear a bird. Begin to relax a little. The sun is going down. The sky is turning pink, the clouds look like they're being lit by great fires underneath. I feel my mind drift a little. We fired first. Maybe they wouldn't have hurt us if we hadn't. Why did we fire first? Fear.

I hear a soft click, over by the alley. My mind snaps back to the present - Pielo clicks his tongue again. He's looking in my direction, finger-signing come. He's crouched by a small pile of strange objects in a net. Heavy duty webbing is attached to it to make handles or shoulder straps. Pielo gently opens the neck of the net, feels for signs of a trap. Nothing. He moves some of the objects around. There are broken bits of star-shaped eyes, like the one I have in my pouch. There are other things, too. They look like weapon parts. Finely tooled mechanisms, springs, old electronic lights and strange scopes. Some things I don't recognise. They look old but more advanced than anything I've ever seen in the Underground. They might be more at home in the beautiful room. Pielo closes up the net, moves deeper into the alley.

I bound his cut myself - wrapped some bindleaf around it that I'd brought with me from the hunter camp and covered that with rough bandages. I'm no healer, but it looked good. The bandages are dirty already but no blood is showing through. We'll probably need to stitch it when we get back. I see he's using it sparingly, holding it close while he combs the ground with his other hand. He stops. His hand against something else. He examines it. Beckons me closer. It's strange machine: no sharp angles, bulbous. There are switches and a display, but it's dark. Pielo tries to lift it but it's too heavy. I try to help but it's no good. We'll need to leave it, for now. The ward at my neck burns (bullshit) and I feel the star-eye press into my back. I don't find it hard to walk away.

\- TWO - V -

We searched the area until almost all the sun was beneath the horizon. A shallow dome of brilliant light threw beams through the ruins of the old city. Dust danced in the light between the shadows. Made it glimmer.

We didn't find anything else. Went back to Genesynch and picked up our gear, carrying the net and all the broken up pieces together. Made our way back to the camp. Went slow, Pielo with the deer, me with the net. Both with bags of loot. We didn't speak, though I thought about it. I watched him often. I think we're closer, now. I don't know what that means.

I cried nineteen times. I hope he didn't see.


	3. Three

DESTINY: OUT OF THE WILD

a novella by J. A. Parry-Bruce

\- THREE - I -

The hunter camps move often. We never stay in one place for long. The game moves, so we move. There are seven groups of hunters and we share over twenty hunting spots - Stations we call them - rotating on some schedule that only Lycus and the group leaders seems to understand. We've already moved once since I've been with them. Each spot is different. Our group, Lycus' group, is currently camped amongst a cluster of low ruins. Roofs are only a floor or two high - three at the most. Houses, I think. They seem like houses.

Our group is called the Whitemane. Something to do with Lycus' name or a name he had, once, or something. There are nine of us. Nine is a good number. Bullshit, it's just another number. Pielo and Ryman are the only two with apprentices - me and a boy from Angel. He's older than I am but I hear Ryman muttering about him in an impatient tone. I never hear Pielo mutter: though I worry that he does.

We got back before midnight. Every camp has a few markers at its perimeter to identify it. We passed red and blue flags - strips of cloth, torn from old clothes, tied to stakes - and slithered down a shallow hill to a blue and white marker - Lycus' sign - near one of the two-story buildings. Each camp has a firepit and some basic cots tucked away in a safe corner. You can't see the light from outside. A watcher whistled somewhere in the rooftops, a rising trill. Warning. Pielo answered with a mournful note and a click of his tongue. Safe, friends.

Lycus was out hunting with Iyem so we brought our finds inside to wait.

\- THREE - II -

Buras hands us both a bowl of stew - thin broth, mainly vegetables grown in a few of the hunting spots with sparse strips of old, preserved meat. We rarely eat what we bring back. If we do, we butcher it properly. Preserve the meat. Use every part. Make it last. Sometimes, we'll get gifts back from the Underground. Jenna was given some bread last time she made a drop-off. They've built new ovens in Holborn. Buras shoves a chunk into my hand. There isn't much left.

No one has asked about the stuff we brought with us. We've left them in an alcove where we store our gear. The deer has been hung in another room with some other kills - four rabbits, a few large birds, another deer. The others know better than to ask Pielo about the bag and the net. He'll wait for Lycus - he'll have questions. The others will hear the answers then, too. No one will ask me.

I spoon stew into my mouth. It tastes good. Buras cooks more than any of us, though we're supposed to take turns. He likes it. He's got a supply of salt tucked away at each Station, so he says. He'll leave tiny packets of it for the other groups. They'll leave herbs, mushrooms, vegetables as a thank you. We rarely have to hunt anything but meat. If someone else finds his salt, our meals will get far less interesting. The bread is stale, now, but it soaks up the broth. I smack my lips. Pielo looks over at me and smiles. He looks away before I can smile back.

We eat in silence. Pielo scrapes his bowl with a crust that he's saved, tucks the crust into his cheek. Sighs quietly. I realise I'm watching him again, look down at my bowl instead. I'm so hungry I swipe the dregs of broth from the sides and bottom of the bowl with my finger. Buras has watched us over his shoulder. Takes Pielo's bowl and mine, spoons a little more stew into each.

"Look like you've earned it." he says, eyes darting to Pielo's arm, my leg. I've picked up a slight limp, probably during the fight, I don't remember. Buras' voice is deep and gravelly. He looks older than Lycus. He hands out our bowls. I nod my thanks and he winks at me. Pielo eats fast, whipping his spoon into his mouth, scraping it around the bowl. He raises his chin in my direction. Buras is watching us. I eat fast, too, no time to savour the little wisps of meat, chunks of vegetable. We hand back our bowls and Buras grins. "Not really supposed to do that." Pielo takes his hand, shakes it. I put my hand on Buras' arm, smile at him. "Thanks" I whisper. He nods.

\- THREE - III -

Pielo leads us back through the store room - our bags and the net lie on the floor, untouched - and into the little workshop at the back of the Station. On the walls, pieces of gear hang on hooks. There's a stand at the back, clothes and bits of armour dangle from its pegs. A rack of weapons sits next to it. Our rifles are on it. We pick them up and clean them. Not a full breakdown - just swabbing the barrel, cleaning off the bolt and checking over the action. Cleaning my rifle means I'm not thinking. Haven't let myself think the entire time we've been back. We clean up the benches once we're done. I place my rifle back on the rack and begin sharpening my knife.

I cleaned it quickly back in Genesynch but there is still some dried blood and matter on the blade. Something is caught in the guard. Something grey and fleshy. I try to pry it out with my finger and it gets caught under my nail. I flick my hand, suddenly frantic.

I don't want it on me, I don't want it on me!

I shake harder, slam the back of my hand into the bench. I drop the knife and clutch my hand to my breast. Start swearing. Hot tears sting the corners of my eyes.

Pielo bends, picks up the knife. He's just a blurry outline, now. The tears are filling my eyes. They well and spill and I feel ashamed all over again. Why am I crying? What is wrong with me? I've killed before. A couple of deer, some birds and a rabbit or two. Every one a life taken. I'm no stranger to it. It can't be that. I shudder and choke on sobs that seem to block my throat. I'm being too loud, I think, everyone will hear! It can't be that, the act of killing.

Then what? Because they looked a little like us? Like humans? No. If a human attacked me I'd defend myself. Because we fired first, then? Because we were the attackers? Maybe. Uncertain. They might have killed us without a second's hesitation anyway, even if we hadn't shot at them. Something in the back of my mind tells me I'm right. I try to remember the fight. They chased us. Sounded angry. Had their weapons drawn already - ready to fight. Ready to kill. We ran, hid. They came in. We fired. Did it take them long to shoot back? Were they firing anyway? Strange blue light. Alien sounds.

Fear. That's it. I'm afraid. Of them?

My first hunt I felt a sort of general fear. Unfocussed. Kind of misty. Wanted to run or fight or something. Back in that room, just a table and a rifle in between me and death, I felt - nothing. Just a need to survive. I fired. Reloaded. Fired. Killed. I don't remember fear. Not then. Afterwards, I cried. Held Pielo. Was it the adrenaline? The emotion I kept bottled up while we fought? I don't think so. I think it was fear then, too. But not fear of the creatures. They were dead, couldn't hurt us anymore. What's to be afraid of in a corpse? Nothing. So why was I afraid?

There's a sudden flash of insight, though it doesn't feel like mine. You're afraid of yourself. I am. You don't know what you can do until you have to do it. I found out I can kill today. Not just animals - not just defenceless beasts for food or clothes or tools - I can kill thinking, feeling people too. Is that me? Who are you? I'm not sure I ever knew. Maybe this is me. This is me now. Maybe I'm not who I was. Maybe this is who I've got to be. The tears are drying up. Maybe I need to be this.

I sense Pielo close by. Maybe they need me to be this. His hand is out in front of him. Reaching to me. I take it. He pulls me close. I fall into him, stay there. I don't know how long for, but my cheeks are dry when he pulls us apart, gently, leads me into one of the sleeping rooms.

He helps me onto a cot. Strokes my hair. I lay on my side, facing him; try to smile. He looks like he wants to say something. Doesn't. He sits, cross legged, on the floor next to me. Holds my hand. All of a sudden I'm tired. Eyes feel heavy. Breathing slow. He pulls a thin blanket over me. I close my eyes. Feel the warmth of his hand. His breath stirs my hair. He mutters something. "Fallen." I hear, "They're called the Fallen." I fall asleep.

AN INTERLUDE IN DREAMS

...Darkness surrounds me and consumes me I can feel it oppressive cloying squeezing it fills me up and I choke on it but I'm still alive it won't let me die it won't let go I can't shake it off…

…raise my fists and tear at my face but all is Darkness…

…and I can't see my fingers I feel the blood swelling and growing bursting out of deep wounds and the blood is Darkness but I see something in the distance something tiny something real…

…I feel the spark of life in the distance and the life is a Light gentle comforting yielding and it grows and grows and surrounds me and covers the Darkness but the Darkness is strong…

…I feel the battle raging and I am torn apart the Light puts me back together but there are deep cracks wounds and Darkness lurks behind the fragile joins…

…the Light wraps itself around me and keeps me warm and I see everything…

…a ball of colour and beauty and life and death and decay and horror…

…and the Darkness gnaws at my gut and I want to feed it and I eat the Light and it fills me and flows through me and I see my fingers and push them into the wounds and pull out the Darkness…

…and the Light consumes it and I rise guided by the Light up up up into the colour but inside me right inside further than skin and muscle and bone and touch and smell and thought there is a cold hard ball no bigger than the first happening of the first quark of the first atom of the first universe…

…and it is Darkness and the Darkness grows and the Darkness surrounds me...


	4. Four

DESTINY: OUT OF THE WILD

a novella by J. A. Parry-Bruce

\- FOUR -

Raised voices wake me up. Sweat soaks my clothes. I'm cold. I grab the blanket and pull it around me.

I hear Lycus' low tone: "You're sure there weren't more?"

"We swept the immediate area, no sign of any others." Pielo. "Tracks led to the building, not away from it."

"Hmm…"

I cross the room, open the door. I don't try to be quiet. Wish Pielo had woken me when Lycus returned. They both look over at me. Pielo nods and I nod back, a smile twitches the corners of my mouth. Lycus doesn't waste time, crosses to me, pushes me into a seat between them.

The small space has been arranged like our living area back in the Underground. A low table, several mismatched chairs and repurposed boxes surround it. Battered steel boxes are stacked in the corners of the room. Supplies. Two doors lead off to the sleeping rooms, the one I came from and another on the wall to my right. The third door leads back into the main room where I hear Buras cooking up some more stew for the new arrivals. I hear Seb's voice - he's made a kill, too. A rabbit. Ryman grunts at his youthful excitement. Sebastian's older than me, but I don't feel young anymore. I look down, see the bags and the net on the floor between the two men. They're both open. I see the four-arm's helmet on another chair. Lycus has something in his hand. I can't see what it is.

"You alright?" I'm surprised by Lycus' question. He's never before asked that of anyone. Not that I've heard. Am I? I nod slowly. "Okay." he says. "What did you see?" I look across at Pielo. Surely he's explained already? He raises an eyebrow, lifts his chin towards me. Finger-signs go on.

"Five of them." I say, my voice is quiet, timid. "Four with two arms. One with four." I stop for a second, watch Lycus.His face is blank. "Had weapons but not ones I recognised. Handguns. Four-arm had a bigger weapon, like a shotgun but… big." I stretch out my arms, indicating the size of the weapon. It was too heavy for us to carry with everything else so we left it at Genesynch. "Weird blue bullets. Like balls of fire." I can't believe I'm saying this. It sounds ridiculous. I know it happened but I can't shake the feeling that I must be making it up. I go to speak again, falter.

"Okay." Lycus raises his hand, "Tell me what happened."

Pielo looks at his feet. I tell Lycus about the deer. Tell him about the climb and the atrium. About the scream. I stutter again but will myself to carry on. "We fired first." I say, hoping, I realise, for a response. Lycus doesn't move, just blinks once or twice. I tell him about the brief fight. Thinking back now it couldn't have lasted longer than a few seconds - ten at most - but it takes me almost a minute to put it together for him. "Then, when they were-" I stop. The word catches in my throat. I swallow but it's still there. I breathe slowly. Force it out. "When they were dead, we checked the hallway to make sure there weren't more. There weren't.

"We went over the corpses, scavenged what we could. Brought some of their weapons back. All of the armour. Some cloth. They had knives so we grabbed them. Weird machine parts, too. Everything.

"I searched the four-arm. Found something else." Lycus nods at me to carry on. "I don't know what it is. I kept it in my pouch. Like a little star. It was-" I don't know why I'm telling him this. "It felt warm." Lycus turns his back to me. "We found more." I raise my voice a little. "Broken ones. In the net they left outside. Pieces..." I look across at Pielo but he's watching Lycus. The old hunter is turning something over in his hands. He's holding the star, I know it. Of all the things we found he wants to know about that. Why?

"Anything else?" Lycus' voice is quieter, now. Distant.

"There was a… machine. Something. It was roundish. About this high." I gesture with my hand but Lycus still has his back to me. "About three feet high. It had a screen. We couldn't make it work. Couldn't lift it, just the two of us."

"Could you find it again?"

"Yes." The trail was pretty easy to follow. Through the old city, outside of the centre, about ten miles from the river. I'd know the building when I saw it, right next to the forest, its neighbor leaning up against it.

"Pielo," Lycus' voice is almost a whisper, "go and tell the others to pack up and get ready to move. We're going together." Pielo hesitates for a moment.

"Where?" he asks. Back, I think.

"To find your machine. Then we have to go into the Underground. The Circus." Pielo nods and goes to find the rest of the hunters. Lycus follows him to the door, shuts it. Now it's just him and me. He sits down in the chair opposite mine. He's playing with the star. Turning it over and over in his hands. He grunts - almost a laugh. Holds out the star to me. "Do you know what this is?"

How would I know? I shake my head.

"I've not seen one of these in a long, long time. I was a different person, then." He looks at me. It's not a glance. It's like he knows how I'm feeling. Maybe he does. That's not a happy thought. Lycus gets up. Starts pacing.

"It's called a Ghost." he says. "They're machines. Helpers. Menders. Searchers. Little gods." He tosses the star - the Ghost - into the air and snatches it back to his chest. He cradles it. Strokes it. "Mine found me, long time ago. Brought me back." Back from where? I think. Here? "Usually, they find you. But, this time, you found it." He holds it out again. Motions for me to take it. I can see his eyes sparkling - he's excited.

"It's dead." I say, taking the Ghost. Fitting name, I think.

"What do you mean?" he asks. Sounds like Gammer. I get the feeling I'm about to be taught something.

"It's dead," I repeat, "doesn't work." Lycus tilts his head on one side.

"How do you know that?"

"The front." I point to the little eye. "Looks like it should light up. The light's gone out." While I'm talking I realise that I don't know how I know all of that. It seemed logical to assume that the eye was the front - the back of the ball is blank, apart from a small slot - and I'd seen things light up before if they worked. Simmo's little electrical toys all had a light on them. The Ghost looked like it should light up so...

"No light means dead." Lycus interrupts my train of thought. Almost exactly the words I was going to use. I shrink back into my chair a little. Can he read minds? No. Who is he? "You're right, of course." He sits down on the box next to me. "This little ghost has almost no Light left. Almost."

Light? I think. What has light got to do with anything? Looks like it needs a good current running through it. I turn it over and over in my hands. It begins to feel warm, again. It's been damaged, this Ghost. The shell is pitted and scarred. Slivers of dull grey paint have chipped off, revealing shining metal beneath. The eight points - flat topped, like the end of a flared prism - surround the eyeball. There's a lens at the front; two chevrons and a circle between them makes the eye. I feel the heat of it, rising. Suddenly I remember the first time I went Overground; the sun peeking from behind a thick cloud, that immediate warmth flowing over me. Happiness. That's how the Ghost feels. Like a memory of sunlight.

Lycus has been watching me. He's not moved. I hold the Ghost in both hands. I want to protect it. "Can we make it work?" I sound like a child, I think. This isn't a broken toy. It's… something else. Something real. Lycus tilts his head from side to side.

"I think so." He puts a hand on my arm. He's not wearing any gloves. His hand is covered with hair-fine scars. There's an angry old burn mark below his little finger. "We'll need to go and see a friend of mine, back in the Underground." He looks me in the eyes. Suddenly, I'm not afraid of him. I feel something of the Ghost's warmth in his touch. Realise it's the same thing I felt from the first time he touched me - brushing his fingers across my hands. "Are you okay?"

"No." I say. "I don't know what happened. What those things were.Why did we kill them?" Pielo knew. I think. He knew what they were called. He's seen them before.

"They're not from our planet." Lycus voice is gentle, quiet. "They're called the Fallen. They would have killed you. You and Pielo did the right thing, firing first."

"How did i not know about them?" Because no one in the Underground knows.

"We…" He hesitates, "We don't tell people in the Underground about them. Can you imagine what would happen? Panic doesn't even begin to describe it.

"Sure, there are stories. The older ones remember their grandparents telling them about monsters on the surface; the battles; the fires. But that's all they are. To them, the Fallen are just monsters in stories. It's safer that way."

"Pielo knew what they were."

"He did." Lycus pauses. Remembering. "He surprised a group of them on his first hunt. They nearly killed him. I had to step in. Saved his life." He's not proud. It was necessary for him to save Pielo. To kill the Fallen. He's done it before. "They're scavengers. Pirates. Been here for hundreds of years. They followed the Traveller." That old myth? I think. But Lycus sounds sincere. "They wanted to get it back. They're jealous of humanity - of the Traveller's Light."

"The Traveller's real?" I ask. Gammer used to tell stories - stories her grandmother told her. About a bright, white ball that came one day, full of magic and lies. It made the people love it. Gave them gifts, made them stronger. Then, when a great darkness fell over the world and all was ruin and calamity, it failed to protect us as we thought it would. And humanity never recovered. I'm disgusted by the thought of it. It seems so wrong for something like that to actually exist. Lycus must see it in my face.

"Just like your father." He smiles and shakes his head. "The Traveller is real. But it isn't what you think." He holds up a hand to silence my reply. "No; you've heard old stories. Bitter tales. Jealous lies. The Traveller is good." He pauses again. Looks down at the floor, then at the Ghost in my hands. "It has to be. It made the Ghosts. The Ghosts made the Guardians. The Guardians protect the City. The world. All of… us." He was going to say 'you'. I know the thought is true. I don't know how. "You might even see it one day." He smiles - it's forced. He raises his hood, hiding his eyes. "Enough. We have to go."

Lycus pats my knee - the heat is gone now. He stands up and stretches out his back. "You did the right thing. You must protect your Light." he says, over his shoulder. "We'll leave when you're ready." He leaves me here, the Ghost in my hands, wondering what is happening to me. Ghosts. The Fallen. The Traveller. Light. Just like your father.

The world doesn't feel real any more.


	5. Five

DESTINY: OUT OF THE WILD

a novella by J. A. Parry-Bruce

\- FIVE - I -

Something tells me this isn't just a hunt. Light, quiet gear won't be enough for this.

Back in the workshop, dressed in light underclothes, I throw on a pair of thick, padded trousers, a shirt with thin strips of armour between its layers and my waistcoat. I put aside my light, comfortable moccasins and pull on a pair of thick, heavy boots. Tie the belt with its pouches around my waist. I find a pair of gloves; armoured knuckles and fingertips. Strap on a pair of bracers and knee-guards scavenged from the Fallen. Over it all I throw my father's coat.

The bone is still in the pocket near my breast. I take it out for a moment, rub my thumb over the thank-sign. Put it back. I get the feeling we might not be coming back here. Pack up my belongings. I've still got the Ghost. I put it in the pouch at the small of my back. Still warm.

As I lean forwards to pick up my rifle, I feel the hard edge of Gammer's parting gift, still wrapped up, in another pocket. I'll open it when we're done. I promise myself. Feels like that might be the right time. I throw my rifle over my shoulder and secure it at my hip. Slide my knife into the sheath on my thigh.

For some reason I feel more like myself than I have done since I left the Underground, despite everything that's happened in the last twenty-four hours. As I'm leaving, I catch sight of my reflection in a darkened window - the glass still intact. I'm thinner than when I left. Harder. My face is much as it was: pretty but not beautiful. Dirt streaks my cheeks. There are clean patches where I've wiped away tears. I've not had time to wash properly since we returned. My hair has grown. I remember Mama brushing it when I was younger. I miss her. I remember Rico pulling it when we fought. I miss him. I remember Gammer stroking it as she told me stories by the fire. I miss them all. But I have to protect them. That's who I am, now. I think. I live for them. I draw my knife. Gather my hair at the nape of my neck. Place the blade under it, saw and pull. It hurts a little. A brief jerk of the knife and the last few strands give out. The shortened sides tickle my cheeks. I can feel the ward at my neck more clearly now. I find I can't throw the handful of hair away. I take up a pinch in thumb and forefinger, tie it into a ribbon. Place it deep in an inside pocket of my coat. The rest I leave on a box. Someone might have a use for it.

I'm ready.

\- FIVE - II -

The others must have sensed the need for action, too. They're all dressed like me. Very unlike hunters. Boots, heavy coats and jackets, armour. Weapons.

When I joined them in the common room, Lycus was handing out handguns. A precaution, he'd said. "Just in case." I saw several of the boxes lying open on the ground. Everyone was refilling their magazines, belts and bandoliers. Iyem had a Fallen weapon, as did Pielo and Jenna. Buras had his own gun - a revolver that I'd seen him cleaning from time to time. Lana was carefully examining an old pistol. Ryman was quietly explaining the use of a new sidearm to Seb, using his own as an example. As I entered, Lycus pressed the last Fallen gun into my hands.

It's much like our pistols but bigger. Grip, trigger, hammer, barrel; check. I held it out to test it. It's heavy but I found I could bear the weight quite well. It's old, I think, older than me. It's been repaired and refurbished. Spines along the back. One has broken off. Pielo helped me fashion a sling for it and tuck it under my coat, next to my left leg. It swings gently as we walk, making itself known with a persistent tapping.

Before we left, Lycus opened a long box I'd seen him carry around from Station to Station, but never open. Inside was a rifle - longer than any I'd ever seen, and strange. Like something from the future, or the past, maybe. Lycus checked it and slung it across his back. Then he lifted out a handgun. Cannon, I thought. It's long and looks heavy. It's old, too, and worn. Like the rifle, it's unlike anything I've ever seen. Almost as strange as the Fallen guns, but obviously made for a human. Lycus looked it over and dropped it into a holster on his hip. Patted it once or twice. I looked around - only Buras looked unsurprised.

He turned to us, then, and walked down the line we'd unintentionally made: Buras, Iyem, Jenna, Ryman, Seb, Lana, Pielo, me. Checking straps and gear, patting shoulders and touching hands. When he came to me he took both of my upper arms in his hands and leaned close. I could just about see his eyes in the shadow of his hood. He stared at me. I saw something, then, some spark of energy dancing in his eyes. Light. He nodded briskly, span on his heel, smartly, and led us out.

\- FIVE - III -

We move quickly. Lycus has set a brisk pace. Jenna and Iyem are scouting ahead, making sure the path is clear for us. After last night, we're not taking any chances. Pielo walks close to me, Ryman and Seb follow us, Lana and Buras bring up the rear.

The sun is cresting the horizon behind us and our shadows stretch out before us, climbing up rises and scrambling over ancient rubble. The path isn't as hard going as the one Pielo and I followed yesterday. Lycus has chosen a more roundabout way. It'll take longer but we'll come out onto the old street, right in front of the Genesynch building. Part of me worries about what we will find. Part of me is excited. That worries me more.

I think about the Fallen. Scavengers, Lycus called them, pirates. What made them that way? I wish I'd asked about their planet. They wanted it back - the Traveller? Must mean that they had it before. Did they capture it? Did it come to them? Were they like us, once? Did it betray them, too? I don't want to visit the Traveller. Wherever it is. No one's sure what happened after the old world ended. Gammer has a story, though, about a city. A city that was built beneath the Traveller. For all that I hate - no, fear - the Traveller, it sounds like a paradise. An oasis in the ruined desert of Earth. Maybe, if the Traveller is real, that city is real, too. I think about the picture in the beautiful room. The happiness of it. I think Lycus might be able to change my mind about seeing the Traveller, just so I can visit the city.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The Fallen weapon at my hip. Reminding me that I've killed to get it. You did the right thing. Really? What did I gain from ending those lives? A new gun? Is that it? A life for a weapon? They might have killed you. They would have killed me, so Lycus says. But does that mean it's okay for me to kill them? Pielo fired first. Horrible thought. It's not okay just because Pielo did it. What would Mama think? What might Gammer say? They're not here. They weren't there. Kill, Gammer had said, hunt. There is honour in this. Honour in killing to feed, she meant. What about to protect? What if those things ever found a way into the Underground? Would you kill them to save Rico? Mama? Gammer? Yes. Of course. Then why not Pielo? Why not yourself? There is heat at my back. Hotter than before. Ghost. Is it speaking to me? Are these my thoughts or its? What is happening to me?

In front of me, Lycus stops. Raises his fist into the air. Quickly finger-signs ready. I look past him. We've been walking down a street lined with ruined buildings. About another fifty feet away are the familiar flagstones, the strange family logo of the Genesynch building. We're there.

Our pace slows to a crawl for the next few yards. Jenna and Iyem are crouched down behind rubble that has fallen across the street. We make our way to them and Lycus signals for everyone to get down. I crouch next to Pielo. He looks at me. finger-signs okay? I sign yes back. We look into one another's eyes. There's something in there, something like fire. More Light? It's hard to look away.

Lycus gathers us closer. Uses hand-sign to assign positions. We're going to split up. Clearly Lycus wants to be careful about how we approach. Maybe he suspects something. The old hunter wants me and Pielo to go right with Iyem and Jenna - we're going to be furthest from the entrance to the building, I realise. Lycus and the rest will head down the left side, they'll enter first, we'll provide backup. He's protecting me. I think. I don't know why. I'm nothing special. Again, the heat. Aren't you? The Ghost. Everyone signals ready, checks over their weapons. Pielo puts his hand on my shoulder. I place my hand on his. Squeeze.

Go. We move immediately on Lycus' signal. Pielo takes the lead of our little group, Jenna follows, then me, then Iyem. I watch Lycus scurry around the corner of the wreckage that litters the street, holding his long rifle in one hand. He's fast. The others struggle to keep up. We dart between cover, making our way steadily up the right-hand side of the wide avenue. When we're almost exactly across from the Genesynch building Pielo signals us to stop.

He hand-signs further instructions to Iyem and Jenna. The pair head for the cover of a doorway further up the street, in the last building before the forest. Pielo waves for me to stay where I am. I watch the front of the building. Lycus has entered, already. The others follow him in. Ryman and Seb take up positions on either side of the wide door. Then we wait.

\- FIVE - IV -

Minutes feel like hours. Tense, nervous. Sweat coats my palms. I'm glad I'm wearing gloves. Pielo and I were very specific about the layout of the building, about where our encounter with the Fallen took place. There's no way Lycus got lost. Maybe it was a trap. But who'd want to trap us? Who'd know we would be coming back? I'm worried, now. They've been too long.

I can see Pielo getting restless. Little movements of his body, the way he keeps adjusting his position slightly, give him away. He checks his gun again every minute. I don't think I've ever seen him so agitated. I manage to get his attention. Finger-sign okay? He waves his hand in a not-so-subtle gesture of annoyance. Annoyed at me? No, he knows Lycus has been too long. He's worried, too. Pielo shakes his head. Looks like he's trying to shake out a thought or two. I know how he feels.

Just as I'm about to sign over to suggest that we go in ourselves, Lycus steps into the doorway. He must have skirted the open area in the atrium and approached the door from one of the long, pillared galleries stretching down either side. He waves openly. Pielo waves back, motions for us to follow.

As we cross the street, I can see Ryman signing to Lycus. Lycus puts his hand on Ryman's, shakes his head. I pass Lycus as I enter the building but he doesn't look at me. Seb is looking a little put out. Ryman looks less than impressed. The rest of us gather to the right of the door. I don't know why but I want to be at the back, as far away from Lycus as possible. But I want to be near Pielo and he's at the front. I shuffle until I'm just behind him. I feel a little better. Buras and Lana descend the stairs nearby, walk over to us.

"Anything?" Lycus asks. Buras shakes his head. Darts a quick look at Pielo and me. I feel Pielo tense. Lycus strokes his chin.

"There were tracks." Lana says, "Mixed up, though. Drag marks. Seems to be after the scuffle." Scuffle? A flash of anger. I go to speak. Pielo cuts me off with a gesture.

"Other Fallen?" he asks. Lana nods.

"We think so." She says. Lycus turns to Buras.

"What do you think, old friend?" Buras considers for a moment. He clenches and unclenches his fists.

"Definitely Fallen. Signs point to them coming and going again. The amount of blood and ether up there, the Fallen they killed-" Buras flips his hand towards Pielo and me "wouldn't even have gotten up again, much less fled. Must have been others." Lycus folds his arms.

"They took the bodies. Direction?"

"Uncertain."

"Something's wrong, here." Lycus begins to pace. No one speaks. Seb nudges Ryman but his teacher shushes him. Seb pushes himself forwards as Lycus passes.

"Could be a trap!" his voice is very loud. Lycus turns and looks at him. There's something angry in the darkness of his hood. He knows that already, idiot. He knew it before we left the Station.

Seb backs away from the old hunter, eyes down. Ryman cuffs him across the back of the head. I feel my lips twitch into a smile. I can't help it. Look at Pielo to hide it from the others. He's smiling too. Lycus resumes pacing for a moment, then turns to look straight at Pielo. "Let's take a look at this 'machine'."

\- FIVE - V -

A blue light darts across the open street, hits Lana squarely in the middle of her face as she's walking out of the doorway. Her head just seems to disappear. She takes another step, then her body just collapses. Someone's screaming.

Pielo shoves me back towards the wall. We're just inside the door, on the right hand side. My view is obscured but I can make out Ryman and Seb pulling Jenna out of the way, back into cover. Buras, Lycus and Iyem were close behind Lana as she led the way out. Buras has lurched towards Pielo and me, he's on the floor but not hurt. I can hear Lycus shouting something to Iyem. They must be taking cover amidst the rubble outside.

There's a familiar scream - the Fallen. Seb was right. Didn't Lycus know it was a trap? He must have done. So how did we get caught in it?

"Covering fire!" I hear shots ring out - quite unlike anything I've ever heard. Lycus' rifle. It must be. I don't realise that the Fallen have been firing until I can't hear their weapons. Buras is on one knee, he leans around the doorway and begins firing. Pielo leans out over him, firing, reloading, firing.

I edge around Pielo and glance outside. One of the Fallen are dead already - the corpse is lying in a pool of blood on the other side of the street. Lycus is crouched behind a decorative wall near the entrance of the building. Iyem is a few feet away from him, huddled near a large lump of concrete. The hunters seem to be firing across the street, towards the building's upper floors - the Fallen were hiding there when we arrived. Why would they come back? For the Ghost? The machine? Maybe we surprised them.

Lycus' magazine runs out. He drops back behind his cover. Pielo, Buras and Iyem keep firing. The Fallen notice the lull. One or two appear in the empty window frames, strange guns barking out blue bullets. Movement to my left. Ryman is at the door, shooting with the rest. Seb has been trying to calm Jenna but she's shrugged him off. Now Seb is on the floor, his hand pressed to his face. Jenna's hand goes to the Fallen weapon in its improvised holster, she draws it as she runs towards the door. I swing my rifle up and around, following her, past her. I take aim at the windows across the street and fire. Jenna is on the steps, firing as she goes. I see another Fallen drop.

"Jenna!" Lycus calls. She's down the steps, still running. A four-arm, much bigger than the one Pielo and me killed yesterday, appears in the doorway of the building: an enormous shotgun-like thing in its hands. Takes aim, waits until Jenna is close enough. Fires. She staggers. Falls.

I sight down the scope. The four-arm is a giant. It's wearing heavy armour - the helmet looks like a nest of metal plates and horns. A long, red cloak trails from its shoulders. I fire. The recoil spoils my view but I know the shot has hit. I bring the rifle back down, sight on the four-arm again. My round has done nothing. The giant darts back into the safety of the doorway.

I drop to a crouch, take aim again. A shot from the windows hits the floor near me. I adjust my aim, find a Fallen two-arm up there and fire. The shot hits. Fluid and a white, gas-like substance spout from its ruined head. I see another Fallen - one of the smaller four-arms, I think, raising its weapon. It's pointing right at me. I roll out of the way, crash into Pielo and Buras.

I bolt upright. I'm safe behind the wall, again. Pielo gets up but Buras looks hurt. I grab his arm. Help him heave himself into a crouch. He winces and quickly rubs his ankle. I must have hit it when we collided. I start to crouch down to him. "None of that!" He shouts, "They need cover!" He shoves me back to the doorway.

Seb's crouched next to Ryman. Pielo's to my right. Lycus and Iyem haven't moved from their cover. They're all still firing. Some shots ping off the concrete around the doorway. Others disappear into the windows. The Fallen seem to have dropped back. Lycus puts his hand up, signals stop. We stop shooting, but everyone keeps their guns up.

The quiet is so loud. There's no noise. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. I peer carefully outside. Lana's body is lying only a few feet away from us, sprawled across several steps. Jenna's is face down in the street. Blood pools under her. I feel bile rise in my throat. It burns. I turn and spit. Seb drops to his knees. Begins retching. Ryman lowers his weapon, bends over his apprentice, pats him gently on the back. I see Lycus and Iyem gesturing to one another. They're signing so fast I'm having difficulty keeping up. But I get the idea. Iyem's going to get Jenna.

The hunter slings his rifle onto his back, draws his Fallen pistol. Pielo nudges me, hand-signs instructions. We carefully emerge from the doorway, keeping low. Pielo leads the way to the cover near Lycus, I follow. Drop into the curve of the low wall near the top of the steps. Lycus looks across at us, nods, then looks back at Iyem. He's halfway to Jenna, now.

Movement! There! In the windows. Lycus snaps his rifle up and fires. I see a puff of white, a spurt of dark blood. I thought Pielo was fast. Iyem stops in his tracks, looks over his shoulder at us. Suddenly, the huge four-arm lopes from the doorway, screaming, firing his brutal weapon. Iyem flies backwards, his chest is on fire. A spray of blood droplets sparkles in the air. Lycus fires again. The shot seems to disappear into a blue haze around the giant.

More Fallen appear at the windows. Pielo and I raise our weapons and begin firing. A smaller four-arm dives from a second floor window. Rolls as it hits the ground. Three shots, one mine, hit its chest, caving it in. Lycus fires again at the Fallen giant. It blurs and seems to vanish for a second, reappearing several yards from where it was. Lycus seems to know this trick, though, and his next shot snaps its head back. I lose the giant behind a mound of rubble, take aim at at a two-arm in one of the windows. Kill it.

I close my eyes, feel Pielo close by. The world seems to slow. He's lost sight of the giant, too. In the doorway! My eyes snap open. A two-arm. Pistol raised. Pielo's moving my way, trying to get sight on the enormous Fallen. He hasn't seen the danger. I jump as the two-arm fires. Pielo doesn't even turn.

I watch as the blue bolt floats lazily towards him. Lycus fires at the two-arm. The noise of his rifle is astonishingly loud. The sound echoes and rings. Claps and booms. I'm going to make it.

Suddenly, at the nape of my neck, the ward begins to burn. My body twists in the air, though I'm not sure it's me who's doing it. In my mind's eye I can see the shape of the armour beneath my coat - a barely noticeable bulge indicates a thicker section. The plates must have slipped sometime in the fight. Lucky me. I think.

As the bolt gets closer, I can see the webs of electricity jumping and pulsing around it. Faint white lines trace jagged patterns across the surface. It's warm, but it's a cold warmth. Bitter and hard.

I shut my eyes.

AN INTERLUDE IN DESTRUCTION

 _He watched the arc bolt smack into her stomach. A crackle of electricity briefly flitted over her armour. Her coat steamed where it hit. But she was alive: he could see her Light, still strong, but fading fast._ _Lycus Wolfsblood - the Whitemane, Hunter, Guardian - roared in anguish._ _The dreg in the doorway had already crumpled to the ground, ether gushing from its ruptured body, before she'd fallen into Pielo's lap. The young hunter scooped her up, pulled her into cover, fingers brushing aside her short hair. She cut it. Lycus thought to himself. I hadn't noticed. He turned his attention back to the fight._ _He'd been in many before, of course. He'd died countless times in the name of the Traveller - for the protection of the City and the people within. His ghost had found him centuries ago, buried in the rubble of a Czech condominium. His arms had been wrapped around the body of a woman - his wife? He couldn't remember… - and his ghost, the strange little machine that had the power to give life to the dead, had told him to "Let go." But letting go was hard. He still saw her face, even now. She'd been long gone, but he'd traced the line of her skull, followed the ragged scraps of skin and sinew still clinging to one cheek and, somehow, seen who she had been._ _The girl looked a little like her. He'd seen her once before - the girl. Iosef had shows Lycus his little babe when they returned to the Underground after a hunt, had twirled around with her in his arms - revelling in her tinkling laughter - Light and love blooming around them. Iosef hadn't been the first, but Lycus missed him most. Lycus had found others, before, others whose Light seemed bright enough to serve the Traveller, who he could take back to the City in hopes of redeeming himself. "Look," he'd say, "I've found a new Guardian! One not dead, like us, but with life and memories and bright ties to this world that we could only dream of having." He'd be given an audience with the Speaker. Presented with a new ghost. He could be the Whitemane again. But Iosef, like all the others, had died on a hunt._ _The Fallen Devils had come back to London, searching for something to aid them in their fight against Humanity. Lycus didn't know what, didn't much care. He knew that his task - the task he'd set himself when he fled the Tower, when he came to scratch out a life in the European Dead Zone, no friends, no ghost, no hope - his task wasn't to hunt the Fallen. But he did it anyway. He chose hunting grounds that would lead them into close proximity with the four-armed aliens and, in his hubris, thought that his companions would be strong enough to stand up to them; he'd trained them, after all. But they never were. Iosef had died. Iosef had died and Lycus had brought his body back to the Underground. They'd taken off his coat and his boots. Taken off the charm he wore on a thin string around his neck. They'd laid him on a pyre in one of the deep, dark tunnels and watched as he burned._ _Then he found Pielo. Pielo had so much Light, he was brimming with it. But it was unfocused, somehow, surrounding him like a cloud, not firm and sharp, like Iosef's - like her's. Her Light was like a weapon. A brilliant dagger deep within and, when Lycus saw her again - that day, after her first hunt - he knew she was the one he'd take back. She was his prize. And now she was dying, that brilliant sliver of Light expanding outward, blurring: the edges of the bright weapon blunted._ _There were four Fallen left, now: two vandals up in the building, firing at the doorway; a lone dreg had followed the other out of the door - stood there with its pistol raised, a knife in its other hand; the captain waited, shrapnel launcher and shock blade at the ready, staring straight at him._ _Behind his eyes, Lycus felt an awakening. He looked within himself and saw the smouldering pile that had once been his fount of Light begin to glow. Years and years of practice had hidden his Traveller-given talents deeply - he'd put up walls to protect himself from the temptation of its use, thrown down barriers to block the bitter memories of such awesome power - but the Light bulged and pressed up against them, broke through and, like a tidal wave, begin to race down the avenues of his mind - latching onto synapses and suffusing his thoughts with a golden glow - coursing through veins and capillaries - filling his body with fierce heat and magnificent Light. He gasped and clenched his fists. Concentrate! Don't fight it, use it!_ _Lycus focussed on a speck of Light. Drew a line in his mind for it to follow, pushed it and pulled it down from his chest, across his forearm and into his fist. The first was followed by a second. A channel was opened. More Light was drawn down, Lycus' will bending it to his designs. Like a pebble falling before the avalanche the single grain showed the others the way. The channel was overwhelmed and Lycus screamed with the effort of control. His mind formed a shape: a gun. Another: the bullet. He felt the immense weight of it in his hand but found that he could bear it._ _His mind's eye opened onto the world - he saw it through a yellow haze. There was a weapon in his hand where none had been before. The captain was advancing, towering over him. Vandals in the windows, firing. Dreg by the open door, waiting. He drew the bullet into the gun with his mind, raised it, fired. A vandal dropped, screeching. Another bullet formed itself in his Light, constructing itself within the chamber of the golden gun. Lycus fired again and the other vandal's head popped. The captain blurred and shifted - reappearing back by a tall lump of concrete near the building. He fired. Lycus jumped, felt the passage of exploding shrapnel beneath him. Raised the gun and brought all of his Light to bear on his target. The bullet was made. He waited until he could see nothing but the captain's plate-covered head before pulling the trigger._ _Fire engulfed the Fallen captain. The Light cracked open the armoured helmet, exposed the wrinkled, pulpy flesh beneath for a moment before it, too, tore and billowed outward in an explosion of viscera: bone and teeth, blood and spittle, clouds of precious ether._ _Lycus sailed over the still-standing corpse, pulled the rune-carved knife from its sheath on his hip and landed softly, directly before the lone dreg. The creature snarled, sharp teeth bared, a guttural sound churning through its throat. Lycus lazily thrust the blade into its head. Twisted. Pulled._ _It was over._


	6. Six

DESTINY: OUT OF THE WILD

a novella by J. A. Parry-Bruce

\- SIX - I -

What was that? I think. Pain gnaws at my gut. Vision's blurry. I'm moaning and grunting, though I'm trying not to. I can't move - stomach feels like a great weight's been placed on it. Pielo is protecting me. His body arched over mine, like a shield. Through the pain I try to replay the last few seconds.

I lost sight of Lycus when I fell. When I looked again he was covered in flames. His body glowed and he had a gun in his hand, but it wasn't the one he carried. He fired - so fast - and the Fallen all died. The sound was terrifying. He killed the last two-arm with his knife. I watched him. Felt a little sick. Maybe it's because I've been shot. Maybe.

I wince and cry out again. Pielo - he's been watching Lycus, too - turns and looks at me. I see anger and fear in his face. "Hold on." He says. He looks around. No more Fallen to fight. The old hunter looks blown out - winded. He's wheezing and his eyes have sunk into his skull. Whatever he did took it out of him. There are little lights dancing around Lycus' head. I try to focus. They're like tiny suns - orbiting him. He sees them, reaches out and grabs one, holds it close to his face. He smiles and puts the thing in his pouch. The other follows. Pain makes me close my eyes, grit my teeth.

"Not done that in a while." I hear Lycus say, closer now. I sense him kneel beside us. "We need to get her to the underground." I hear the others gathering around. Buras' leg drags through broken stone and long grass.

"I'll slow you down." Buras says. "Me, Ryman and the boy will clear up here, see to the others. Go, now."

I feel arms around me. Lycus is lifting me up. He doesn't even groan. "Thank you, old friend." I snake my arms around Lycus' neck, hold on as tight as I can. I look up, see his face and, beyond it, the blue sky.

Pain, when he moves. I moan. Try to bite my lip. Whimper. It's too much. It hurts. It hurts. The sky is so bright. Lycus looks down at me. I stare into his eyes, bright and dancing. "Hold on."

Darkness surrounds me.

\- SIX - II -

The jostling wakes me. My eyes flutter. Feels like I'm floating. Brightness above. Lycus' face. Feels like a hole has opened in me. I can't think straight. Try to concentrate. Lycus' face. Clouds overhead. His arms are strong. Wind whips through what's left of my hair. He's running.

Try to look around. Pain. Moaning. "Hush" he says.

Two sets of footsteps. Pielo. He's alive. Happyness.

Drifting. "Not far, now." Lycus. Took me away from home and now I'm dead. Is Mama dead? Gammer? Little Rico? No. And neither are you. Not yet, little ghost. Feel it against my back. Not so hot now. Sky so blue. Running so fast. Dying so slowly.

Burning breath. Dry cough. Lycus looks at me. Eyes are glowing - on fire. I scream.

\- SIX - III -

It's dark. My eyes are open again. I think they've been open for a while but I didn't see anything through them.

The sky is darker. Must have been moving for a while. Feel my head starting to fog already. Pain's still there. I cry out. "Almost there…" Lycus again. I see buildings all around us. Ruins, mostly. And trees. Gammer's face appears in my head.

"And London burned." She says. Can't keep my eyes open. Can't breathe. Can't breathe…

I strain for a breath. It won't come. I feel Lycus' grip tighten. He runs faster. We're going down, now. An old staircase. An ancient tunnel. I force my eyes open. Pull knife-sharp air into my lungs. Feel it cut me all the way down. My mind is like the knife and I know I'm going to die. I don't want to die. I won't let you.

Little ghost. I feel its heat again. Choke down another razor breath. Lycus turns a corner. All is darkness. He knows where he's going, doesn't slow down.

I see shapes in the darkness, dim reflections where light's diminished finger strokes certain surfaces. One looks like a ball. The Traveller. I watch it get closer, then it's passed. We're still moving. Not the Traveller. Just a thing - a nevermind. The light is getting fainter, now. The darkness is almost absolute. I try to imagine the light I saw, the Light I've felt. Pain stabs at my belly but I push it to one side. There's Light in me. They've said so. I reach down and try to find it. The ward burns at my neck. There's nothing left to banish, now, and you can't protect me from this. I know it's true.

I close my eyes and I imagine the sliver of my Light, shining brightly in my heart. But, like the shining orb, the not-Traveller, the light passes, grows dim, fades...

AN INTERLUDE IN DYING

 _...And Darkness consumes me. Again._ _I don't know where I am. It's dark, here. There's a heat around me, like a circle. I look into it and see a shape, a ward within a ward - great protection. The circle pulses out and, in its wake, I see shapes. I don't understand them._ _There are recognizable shapes and geometric anomalies. Pyramids and trapezoids and a great, grand sphere. Then something with nine sides but twelve faces and another with one face but great depth. What does it mean?_ _There's a blunt-ended star nearby. It shines and emits its own pulse. I feel the pulse wash over me, it makes my ward sparkle and flash. Glee makes me giggle. I'm naked but not afraid._ _I see faces amongst the shapes - people I knew. The Fallen I killed. A deer. The glassy memory of a fox's eyes - dead and filled with worms._ _What am I doing here? Where am I?_ _The star speaks: "You are here, alone. But I have come to find you."_ _"Why have you come?" I ask._ _"I can help you. I will take care of you."_ _"Take me, where?"_ _"To life. To the pain. To your love."_ _"I've had enough of pain." I turn and walk away._ _Nearby there is a tree. I sit under its shady canopy and play with blades of black grass. There is light but I cannot see what is making it. It's cold, hard, unfeeling._ _The starghost sees me. I run._ _I run from the ghoststar and from the pain. Run until my feet bleed tarry Darkness. "You don't know what I am." I say._ _The star is before me. The ghost is all around me. "I know enough."_ _"I've seen the Darkness." I tell it. It looks through me and into me. It has known the Darkness, too._ _"You've seen fear. You've seen the absence of Light and the failure of the Traveller. You've seen what's left of you all." I despair. "You've seen nothing but a grain of yourself." It holds out a long, thin hand. The fingers are cut off at the first knuckle and there is an eye in the palm._ _"Will you show me Light?" I ask it. "Will you banish the Darkness?"_ _"I cannot do either." It waits for me, hand out. I hesitate to touch it._ _"I'm different." I say. Knowing the truth. "I'm alive."_ _"You're alive." It blinks. "But so are we all. In our way. I can help you see the Light for yourself. Will that do?"_ _"I cannot see it, now." I look all around me. There is light but not Light. I can see the tree, the buildings, the shapes have become the world and the people and they are many but they are dead._ _"You aren't looking right." I look right. See the ghost, the star, the little Light. I see a speck of brightness in its Dark eye and I am afraid. "Yes." It hisses. "You see Light."_ _I reach into it and pluck up the Light. Like a streamer it billows from the ghost star ghost. It shimmers and shines and gusts of breath blow the streamers into a million ribbons of Light that wrap around the world and make it gleam with life. But I am an obelisk of Darkness in that world of Light._ _"I can't give it to you." The ghost is all around - it is the Light. "You must take it and choose."_ _"I can't choose." I tell it. My hands are not my own. I feel I am fading. A chasm opens below me. I am turning into Darkness, into ash. The ghost is before me, again, as I saw it when I saw it first. Scratches and nicks and peeling chips of paint. And from them, Light shines through._ _"Now." Lycus' voice._ _"Come on." Pielo._ _"I can't…" I will my arms to move, to take the blade of Light that is growing up from beneath my crumbling legs. A finger twitches. But it moves so slowly. How nice it would be not to move. How nice not to think. How nice to let go and just float within the darkness within the Darkness._ _"DO IT!" A deep voice. My father's voice. My arm moves. I am scared. My legs are nearly gone - a shadow moves up my body and I feel the cold pouring over me. There's a hole in my stomach and it's bleeding Darkness. I push my hands into it and pull out sticky handfuls of tar. I pull and pull but there is always more. The ghost stands nearby, lashes of Light dance around it, flicking out of the gaps in its shell. Mortal and immortal. Powerless and powerful. I allow my arms to be entwined with the Light and plunge my wrapped hands back into my stomach. This time I pull out a clot of Darkness - it moves and snaps at my fingers. I wrap the Light around it and it screams. I feel something in me die._ _The ghost expands and I am walking on a bridge of Light, though there are spots of Darkness at either end. I lay down on the Light and stroke it and welcome it in. I feel strength and power. I feel love and life. I feel bitter loss and terrible anguish. I feel..._


	7. Seven & Epilogue & Afterword

DESTINY: OUT OF THE WILD

a novella by J. A. Parry-Bruce

\- SEVEN - I -

...Pain. I moan. Put my hand on my stomach. Try to sit up. Can't. Lie back down.

"Take it easy," I hear a gentle voice nearby. Strange-sounding. "You need to rest." I look around. My vision blurs but I see the ghost, floating a few feet away from me. I try to talk but can't get the words out.

"Fixed?" I manage.

"Yes, what do you think?" The ghost spins in the air. It's little eye darts this way and that. It looks nervous.

"Nice." I slur. "Wha- happen?" The ghost dances back and forth, it can't sit still.

"Fortunately, Lycus knew a guy. A Frame, actually. Delighted in telling me how he fixed me - had to try real hard to get him to shut up, actually. Just lucky Lycus had some Light handy or it wouldn't have worked."

"I die?" I ask, unsure if I want to know the answer.

"You were close." The ghost comes towards me, eye flicking back and forth, up and down, scanning me. "I managed to pull you back. Or, we did, anyhow."

"Light… han-y?"

"Oh yes, a few motes but it was more than enough. I'd like to visit the Speaker, try to get another infusion but I'm fine, now, really." The ghost does another little dance, swings close again. "Thank you," it whispers, "for saving me." It spins again, looks at the door. "Someone's coming." Lycus.

A knock. They don't wait for a response, just open the door. It's Lycus, Pielo just behind him, and something else - a metal skeleton with a cylindrical head and six-fingered hands. I sit up and shuffle back on the bed, away from them. Pain gnaws at my gut, again.

"You're awake." Lycus says. "Looks like it worked." He looks back at the metal man and nods. It nods back.

"As I said, sir, while the ghost's AI core and power source remain a mystery, it was a simple matter to repair such servos and-" Lycus holds up a hand and the things stops talking. He looks at me, leans over to look into my face. Gestures to the metal man.

"That's Janus." He says. Pielo is smiling. "He's what we call a frame."

"Janus ten-ten, at your service." The frame bows. I hear joints creak quietly. It stands and brings its slender fingers together with brittle clicking sounds. "While I'm no stranger to repairing machines, I've never seen anything like what that ghost did to you."

"What did it do?" I struggle to form the words but they seem to understand. Pielo comes forwrds.

"It saved you. You were nearly dead." I can see tiny tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He swipes them away with his hand. Sniffs. Doesn't stop smiling.

"How?" Lycus shakes his head.

"It's hard to explain." He says. The ghost flits around the room, scanning each of us in turn. It hovers close to me.

"You're a creature of Light." It's eye flashes. "I was able to use your own Light to save you - coax it out and multiply it. That's my purpose. We find the ones whose Light is brightest and help them make it brighter." It turns to look at Lycus. Back to me. "Your friend, here, helped me." Lycus is staring at the ghost. His eyes are hard and I get the feeling that he doesn't like it. Doesn't trust it.

"Can you give me a minute alone with her?" He looks at the others. Janus turns and leaves without a word. Pielo reaches over, touches my hand before he goes. The ghost stays put. "You too." Lycus points at it. The ghost seems to hesitate. Then, even without shoulders, it manages to shrug. It turns to me.

"I'm right outside." Its eye goes dark, then brightens again. It's winking. Iwatch it leave - barely missing Lycus' head.

"Wha's wrong?" I ask. Lycus is shutting the door. He motions me to be quiet. Hand-signs be careful. He reaches into a bag at his hip. Pulls out my belt. My coat. He hands them to me. I manage to wriggle myself into a sitting position. It hurts, still, but the pain feels like it's fading. He must have seen me wince, puts his hand on my shoulder. I hold my coat tight, brush my thumb over the ward. Gammer's packet is still in its pocket. Unopened. I finger-sign what's wrong? Lycus begins speaking.

He talks about the fight. Talks about how he killed the Fallen. Tells me he's a Guardian. That he's hundreds of years old. That he had a ghost, too, once. That I'm a Guardian, now. They repaired the ghost, the ghost chose me, the ghost healed me.

But with his hands and his fingers and his eyes, he tells me other things. Be careful. The ghost didn't choose you. It wanted me. I asked it to choose you - I don't need another ghost but you, you have what it takes to be a Guardian. The ghost knows it. I can feel your Light, your strength. I'm not worthy of the Traveller's Light anymore. I abandoned the Tower long ago. But I'll go back there, with you. We'll go, together. Don't be afraid.

When he's finished, I ask a question. I feel much better. "You knew my father?" Lycus bows his head.

"Yes." He pauses. Waits. I don't say anything. He shuffles. Looks at his feet. He's trying to decide what to tell me. "I knew him." He says. "He was a hunter, like you. Like me.

"I took him out of the underground after he made his first kill, same as you. Saw something in him. Light." He looks at me. Then away. "Taught him well. We killed for food. Side-by-side. He was my apprentice, but he wasn't an apprentice for long. Then, when I thought he was ready, we hunted Fallen.

"Must have killed hundreds of them, together. I trusted him like no one else I'd ever met. Ever. One night, I told him the truth about me. About the Light and the Traveller and the City. Told him I wanted him to become a Guardian. Thought he could help me go back. Atone for my sins. He was my ticket home. But he didn't believe me. Or he couldn't. Wouldn't, maybe.

"I didn't talk to him about it again. He met your mother when we dropped off a few kills in her village a little after that. The villagers threw us all a little party. They fell in love.

"He stayed, ran a little group of local hunters there for a while. Then, when you were a few years old, I asked him to come with us again. The Fallen were getting too close to some of the bigger Underground entrances and I wanted to protect them. We pushed them back but your dad-" He pauses. He's been talking non-stop. Seems like this needed to come out. I feel tears prick at my eyes. See Lycus is already crying.

"He saved me." Lycus looks at me. Eyes are sunken and wet. He looks older. "This dreg was on me and I didn't see the others. Your father took one out with his weapon but another saw him before he saw it. He didn't stand a chance. They have these knives that-. I couldn't save him.

"We were close." He says, his voice is quiet. "When he was gone I tried to fill the gap. Pielo came close. Then, when you turned up, full of Light, I knew. You'd take his place. You're so like him." He reaches out, touches my arm. I feel that old, familiar warmth. That Light. "Will you come with me?"

"Yes." I tell him. "When?"

"Now." He smiles.

\- SEVEN - II -

We're ready to go.

We've been in the Circus for a few days, now. I rested for a day but couldn't bear to sit and stare at the walls for any longer. Ghost talked to me. Told me about the City, the Traveller. I had many questions. Ghost didn't have all of the answers.

It followed me around as I explored the Circus with Pielo. We held hands. I smiled, a lot. He's coming with us. Says that there's nothing here for him. He needs to protect me. Everything I've learned from Ghost tells me I'm probably going to be protecting him. But I don't mind. I don't want to stop protecting him. And I don't want to leave him. We've talked, too. About home. About us. Who we were. Who we want to be. About the City. The Traveller. About Lycus.

We've been living in a few rooms set aside for hunters. I've slept in Pielo's bed for the last two nights. Lycus comes home late, after we're both asleep. I wake up, happy.

Lycus took us both on a tour of the Circus. It's one of the biggest towns in the Underground. There are two entrances and miles of tunnels split up into houses, store-rooms, shops and public spaces. There's even an inn. I tried cider. It's sweet and makes me cough. I like it.

We saw a weaponsmith. He's been repairing and modifying our weapons. He's taken the Fallen guns and used some of their technology in pistols for us. Janus 10-10 helped him. He talked about it, a lot. I didn't understand most of what he said.

We've been getting everything together for our journey. Lycus says that it'll be long. We'll be travelling for months, mostly over-ground, but we'll have to head south, first, cross a great bridge over a wide channel before turning east. We've got food and water. Hunting tools and new clothes. My coat has been repaired by a kind woman. I've written messages that a young man called Hiero will take to Mama and Gammer and Rico. In the letters, I tell them I love them and that I'm safe. That I'm happy.

I've spent some time carving new wards, new signs, into my gear. We've all got new armour, some new weapons, new clothes. I've copied my father's ward into my clothes, made up some new ones of my own design. My weapons have power-signs on them. I've even carved a thank-sign into Ghost. I asked him first. He said I could, but he didn't sound too pleased. I've been thinking about what Lycus said. About spiritualism: how it's bullshit. I understand, now, I think.

Lycus has contacted other hunters. They arrived today and he met with them for a long time. Pielo and I wandered the Circus. Talked to people. To each other. Ghost follows me everywhere. Lycus has told us that he's going to give them orders and directions to follow when he's gone. Lycus has picked Buras to lead them but he's not been able to make it to the meeting. Ryman sent word with Seb that he's doing well, that they buried the others and burned the dead Fallen. Seb is taking more messages back to the Station - one of them will be a long one for Buras that I've seen Lycus writing whenever he has a spare minute.

It's been strange, being amongst people for a time. I'd not been a hunter long but I'd gotten used to the quiet. To the solitude. Seeing the people here reminds me why I became a hunter. I think it'll remind me why I became a Guardian, too.

I don't know what will happen when we get to the City. What will they do with Pielo? Will I be able to see him? We don't talk about it. He holds me close at night and I feel his fear. I'm afraid, too. We're alone in our fear. Alone, together.

Honestly, I don't know if I'll ever really be ready.

\- SEVEN - III -

There are people waiting to wave us off. Janus and Kion, the weaponsmith, Seb and the other hunters. They've all come onto the surface. We're surrounded by tall buildings. There are no trees nearby, but grass has grown up through the thick tarmac floor. I can see a leafy canopy at the bottom one of the long streets.

Lycus and Pielo shake everyone's hands. They're talking together in low voices. As they say goodbye, Pielo pulls Seb in for a hug. I hang back. I'm not sure what to do.

Seb comes over. "Got it working, then." He points at Ghost. He must have seen it back in the Station. I nod. "Where are you going?" He asks.

"To the last City." I tell him.

"Isn't that a myth?" I shrug. He tuts and holds out his hand. I shake it. "Good luck!" He tells me. He smiles, I try to smile back. He turns and walks back to the other hunters.

A breeze blows out of one of the long tunnels. I wrap my arms around myself, feel something hard dig into my elbow. Gammer's little parcel. I turn away from the crowd and open it out. Hear Ghost idly buzz over my shoulder. "What's that?" He asks.

"My Gammer gave it to me. When I left." It's wrapped tightly in soft leather. I stroke the covering. I don't know why but I'm not sure I should open it.

"Open it." Ghost tells me. I hesitate. Somehow it feels as though opening it will start something. Or end something. I look over my shoulder. Pielo is talking to another hunter, they're smiling. His eyes are bright and he looks happy. This journey is going to be dangerous. I don't want to lose him. I turn over the parcel and pick at the thin cord keeping it together.

I peel away two layers of soft leather and drop the object into my hand. It's a slim disc of metal - bronze in colour, with a strange carving in the flat face. I flip it over, a green gem sits in the middle, a few shallow curves surround it. I can't look away. I've never seen anything like it before. Ghost flits down for a closer look. "Where did you get this?" He hisses, stubby points twitching around, nervously.

"From my Gammer. She said it was my father's." I wonder where he got it from.

"Your father?" Ghost scoots back, rocks forwards. Comes very close, whispers: "Hide it."

"Do you know what it is?" I still have it in my hand. I hold it up to the little machine.

"Yes, I know. But you should put it away."

"Tell me." I demand.

"Not now." I start to protest but Ghost lurches towards my face. "Later." He hisses, then calmer: "Later, I promise. Put it away. Keep it close."

Silently, I put the strange disc in my inside breast pocket. I keep hold of the leather and cord, too. "Good." Says Ghost. It begins flying away, towards Lycus and the others. "We'd better get going."

I follow, picking up my heavy pack and slinging it across my shoulders. Our weapons are waiting for us by the entrance. As I approach, Lycus looks over at me. He smiles again, but there's something else in it. Not a happy smile, he's nervous. I know how he feels.

"Ready?" Lycus asks. Pielo holds out his hand to me. I take Pielo's hand and nod. I can't think of anything more to say.

EPILOGUE

 _Humans probably hadn't set foot on the bridge for hundreds of years. It was remarkable that, even after the pillaging of Europe, it still stood._ _One of the marvels of the Golden Age, the Channel Bridge was a masterpiece of engineering. Eight lanes crossed over thirty kilometres of water in a single, uninterrupted span. At its centre, the lanes crossed over in a swooping web of metal and concrete, swapping which side of the road the traffic would travel on, and, between the lanes, nestled a wide, covered avenue, lined with shops, galleries, restaurants, entertainment venues and parks. Titan pillars on either shore anchored the thousands of impossibly strong suspension cables that held the mighty bridge aloft. It was wonderful._ _The ghost had seen it all before, of course._ _They were making their way across the bridge - slow going at the best of times, but the Fallen weren't keen on letting go this excellent territory. The small group had been in three skirmishes already and were barely twelve kilometres in. The girl was already proving her worth, had three kills already - one a vandal._ _They'd camped out last night in a long abandoned store. Fortunately, animals had ventured onto the bridge, too, so they made an easy kill. The parks had spilled over their carefully tended borders and covered the bridge in green. The ghost imagined roots poking out through the bottom of the bridge, searching for the water far, far below, heedless of its toxicity. The ghost had watched its charge all night. It spent every free picosecond weighing her up, appraising her, judging her._ _The old Hunter had assured the ghost that she was worthy of the mantle of Guardian, that she wouldn't disappoint, that she would serve the Tower and the Traveller. The ghost had merged with her Light so he knew the truth of some of the ancient human's words. She was certainly capable. But he was the prize the ghost had been seeking before the Fallen had captured it._ _The ghost felt him as soon as it had been revived. The frame had done what it could for the ghost's body but it was the Light, a dazzling little mote that the Hunter had wished into it's soul, that had truly brought it back to, what the ghost could only call, life. It had drunk deeply of that Light, had sensed the nature of the maker of it, had relished in the transfer of power. It wanted more - for all beings of Light are greedy for it - but knew that it would have to wait._ _It had begged Lycus to let it bind itself to him. Even as the girl lay dying, the ghost pleaded. Well, not pleaded, it had asked - forcefully. It tried to make it clear that the Hunter would be more use than the child ever would. The ghost had been sent out into the world for one purpose: find agents that the Ghost, the Speaker and, so, the Traveller, could bend to their will. Strong bodies, weak minds. Bursting with Light and a desire to use it, lacking only a purpose._ _But the Hunter had denied it. And far be it for a ghost to disobey a Guardian. So it had healed the girl, had bound itself to her as it had to three other Guardians before her. It would serve her, until she had no further need of it. Until her Light was extinguished, as the ghost knew it would be. No matter. Then it would find a new master. A stronger master._ _Once they were bound, the ghost had asked the girls name, the old Hunter had told it. It rolled the name around in its mind, a strange name. Lycus had bid the ghost take care of her. Inside its shell, the ghost had smiled and a shadow borne of Darkness had flitted through its consciousness._ _It followed, now, as she carefully wound her way through the ruined buildings, following Lycus and the other human. There was evidence of Fallen all around: their strange devices, tattered cloth hangings, old bones. Filthy scavengers. A blackened spar of metal jutted out at an angle from the floor. "Watch out." The ghost warned._ _"Thanks." She stepped, lightly, over the bar. Looked back at the ghost, smiled._ _"It's okay, Mieli," the ghost said, "I'll take care of you."_

AFTERWARD

When I set out to write this little story, I didn't envision it as being set in the world of Destiny. However, as I wrote (and as I continued to play the game) it became more and more apparent that I was being influenced by the world that Bungie had created. As a result, I ultimately chose to refocus the story and have it take place in that same world.

Unfortunately, though, Bungie haven't yet released a comprehensive guide to their Universe or its rules - we don't really know how most of it works. That means that I've had to take some liberties and make some educated guesses to get my story to function within that world, without sacrificing depth and clarity.

Where possible, I've taken my cues and made some decisions based on the information that is available - either through in-game lore, the extensive collection of Grimoire cards, the armoury and other reputable sources of information.


End file.
